That day she said the word

SHE SAID THE WORD THAT DAY

She only said the word, when with her closest friends. It meant she was safe, alive and somewhat happy.
Today she said it, to a stranger.
What that meant, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps, she was losing her sense of appropriateness, or was simply becoming more comfortably being herself.
Yesterday, she was the one who found the body.
Stiff and unresponsive, when just last night, he was playing piano and laughing.
She was used to this. Had worked with those who were dying for years, but this one caught her off guard. He seemed fine when she went to bed.
And then, early in the morning, she heard the piano playing, rushed in, and there was no one there. She swore, she heard the tune though.
Perhaps, his mother was saying good bye as only mother’s know their sons like that.
As for her, she knocked as long as she could, and then entered. He was slouched with eyes still open on the bed. His mother’s old quilt was over his feet. But he was long gone.
She called. They came, and took what seemed like forever getting his body out of the house.
Today, she had to go to work. There was a new guy near her desk. She said my name is Pam, and the world is fucking crazy.
That was their first exchange.
How strange I used that word with a stranger, she thought on her way home.